Wanted You More
by s0merholic
Summary: Elena met Damon on their first day of college. They immediately hit it off however something was always standing in their way. Will they ever get to be together, or will he always be the one who got away? Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! It's been a while since I've written a DE story but with that absolutely devastating season finale, I felt the need to write and vent and share my love of all things Damon Salvatore. This story isn't actually one that I specifically wrote for DE. It's one I've been scribbling away at for a while. Initially my main characters had no names and were just *boy* and *girl* but then I realised – Damon and Elena! So here it is. The story I've actually written is rather long and disjointed so it might take a while to get things sorted but for now, here's the first chapter. Hope you enjoy. Please review with any comments and tips you might have – I'd really appreciate it!**

"I'm beginning to think that you're stalking me." I blushed as the dark haired stranger bent down to gather up my scattered pens. I had seen this boy this morning, at the introductory assembly, my first lecture and now, outside room 101 (which was also my English Literature classroom). And _I _was the one stalking him? Still, he was cute and I felt like my first words to him had to be an amalgamation of cute, funny and cryptic.

"Maybe I am." Ok, that sounded a lot less creepy in my head.

"Or maybe fate is trying to tell us something." Our eyes collided for the first time; his look was one of gentle teasing as a playful smirk tugged at his lips. And I swear, when he gave me back my pens and our hands touched for the first time, there was electricity. (Or maybe I've just read way too many Nicholas Sparks novels)

Still, when a cute, well-kept boy with the most beautiful blue eyes known to humanity and a leather jacket that just oozed _I can show you a god time _attempted to flirt with you, you should do one of three reactions:

1. Giggle and twirl your hair because you are, after all, an 18 year old girl.

2. Make a flirty remark back. This could include a sassy (but cute) "Maybe fate is telling you that but she's telling me something else entirely" to let him know that you're not just a pretty face.

3. Cute! Let's make out." (Surprisingly this option seems to be the least popular)

What you should absolutely not do, under any circumstances, is announce "I don't believe in fate" and turn on your heels. Nope. Statements like that could ruin any potential romance that may flourish between the both of you.

Mentally cursing y stupidity and inability to flirt with anyone, ever – _seriously? _I'd watched every cliché rom-com known to man and I had absolutely no idea of how to flirt with an attractive member of the opposite species? – I collapsed into the first - and most appropriate - seat I could find in the room. Not too far back that the lecturer would see me as uninterested but not too far front that I'd be forced to suffer the consequences if I ever – dare I say it – come hungover to one of these lessons. I'd learned the hard way to that in my last year of high school after someone had decided that Tuesday was a completely appropriate night to throw a party.

My head was knee deep in my bag when I heard the scratching of the chair next to me. The only thing I could pray that it was not that perv, Logan from French who had tried to smack my backside. Maybe it would be a cute girl and I could fall in love with her and turn lesbian and all my problems about the male species would be solved.

"If this seat has been claimed by some other guy then I sincerely apologise but they'll have to find a new one. Unless, of course, he has very big muscles then it will be an epic battle until the very end."

My head whipped up faster than Usain Bolt ran every sprint, ever – seriously, how fast was that guy? It was him again, attractive leather jacket man. I hadn't scared him off, hooray! How could I have not scared him off? I suddenly had the biggest fear that I was being punk'd (unlikely because I am neither American nor a celebrity and also, it would be a pretty crappy prank. _Oh you made some girl think you liked her – good one!_) or that one of his friends had set him up as a dare (also improbable considering this was our first day here). It was during the middle of my inner-monologue that I realised that this stranger was still hovering over the chair, waiting for the go ahead.

"Nobody's sitting there – you're fine." I stumbled through the words.

"I am fine, aren't I?" He smirked, throwing his bag onto the floor and making himself comfortable. The sentence was dripping with innuendoes; I couldn't help the tug on my lips.

"Yes – modest, too!" Victory! I had finally said something witty and clever and proved to him I wasn't a complete idiot.

"Very. So what's your name mysterious stranger girl whose cliché comebacks I hope I grow to adore?"

His name was Damon Salvatore. He was 19 years old and I wanted nothing more than to have his children.

-**tvd-tvd-tvd-**

Class was over far too soon and the electricity that had formed between us ceased the moment he moved to claim his bag. When he didn't say anything, I started towards the door. I suppose it's just as well nothing further happened, what with -

"This is getting ridiculous. Stop walking away from me!" His tone was dripping with humour as he tugged on my bag. "I'm taking this so you won't disappear again."

I laughed, feeling butterflies form in my stomach. Hell, I'd just met this guy and he was already making me swoon! This was bad. "That's pointless." I eventually said. "We're going to be outside in a few minutes" Smooth, Elena. Way to kill the moment.

"Well that's true. But we'll have more time together if you come for coffee with me."

I was just about to reply when I heard this great bellowing from behind me that would genuinely cause me to run and hide if I didn't know the source of the sound.

"'Leeeeeeeena." I couldn't help the almost inaudible groan that escaped me as Tyler came bounding towards me. His ape-like body engulfing me into a massive bear hug. "How was your first day?"

"Hey, Ty. Good. Yours?"

"Yeah, you'll never guess what-" His words cut off abruptly as he seemed to finally notice Damon standing beside me, holding my bag, probably looking very, very confused. His eyes darted frantically between us. I could see him eyeing Damon up and down, probably deciding whether or not he could take him.

"Ty, this is Damon Salvatore. He's in my English Lit class. Damon, this is Tyler Lockwood."

"Her boyfriend." Tyler interjected.

I supressed an eye roll at Tyler's jibe. His desire to be the alpha male, though initially had drew me to him, now made me want to be sick. It was overwhelming, he was overwhelming. Like Stanley Kowalski, he took his role as the gaudy seed-bearer way too seriously and it was suffocating me.

"My boyfriend." I finally echoed, not quite sure of what else to say.

**That's the first chapter there. What did you think? The ending… could have been better. Initially, my chapter ended before Tyler came into the story however having him there works better with the next chapter. Anyway, please review! I appreciate all opinions whether they be positive or negative but (hopefully) helpful! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go: chapter 2. Hope you all enjoy. **

"Boyfriend, huh?" Damon's voice was smooth like velvet, I already had goose bumps and he'd only said two words. Even if those two words did cause me to groan and roll my eyes.

"You don't seem too happy about that." He commented.

"Observant." Slightly rude but I was livid. Not at Damon, of course not, at my so-called 'boyfriend'. Tyler and I had broken up months ago; sure the exact words had never been said but they lingered in the air every time we spent time together.

"Why don't you break up with him?" Damon had no idea how deep his own question was, and it was _far _too deep for 9.30 in the morning whilst sitting in an English classroom. Questions like that should be saved for after midnight when I've had way too much Vodka. Sure, to him, it was simple. You don't like a guy, you break up with him but there was history. Lots of history and I couldn't be the one to break up with Tyler. Not now, not so soon after everything he'd been through and everything we'd been through together.

"It's… complicated." I eventually answered. Cryptic, yes, but this man – thought lovely and handsome and sweet with a voice that could stop wars and a smile that would make Margaret Thatcher weak at the knees – was virtually a stranger. I had met him two days ago. And despite the fact that I wanted to bare my soul to him (and a lot of other things as well) I stopped myself because as of right now, he had no right to know the reasons behind my decisions. Tyler, a few months prior had found out that he was adopted. And it wasn't even because his parents had finally decided to tell him, it was because his uncle Mason had gotten drunk at his father's birthday bash and let the cat out of the bag. Tyler was devastated, naturally. His whole life had been a lie and his parents – the two people he thought he could trust most in the world – were fakes. When he came to me with it, I supported him as best as I could. Up until then we'd been going through a rough stage and our relationship was coming to an end but after that, I simply couldn't bring myself to end it. Regardless that it might have been better for Tyler, how could anyone break up with a person after that?

Besides Tyler and I had fun together. Our relationship was simple; we knew what the other liked, we had our own routine and I didn't want to throw a two year relationship down the drain because we were having some problems. For all I knew at this point, Tyler was the man I would one day marry. Even if he had changed and became too protective and clingy, so what? He was holding onto what he had so it wouldn't leave him. It's one of the symptoms a person can develop after hearing devastating news (well, it is according to Yahoo answers).

Of course, this man sitting next to me had absolutely no idea about any of this nor did he need to know. So, instead of saying anything else, I simply smiled and turned my head back towards the board, firmly putting a stopper on any further conversation.

Tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd

Still, Damon was persistent. Not about the Tyler thing – he understood well enough that my relationship with Tyler was none of his business however he was eager to pursue what he called a 'friendship'. I wasn't quite sure if I believed him but who was I to say no to a new friend? Especially one like Damon who had took to college like a bird to the sky. He was a social butterfly, there was no doubt about that. Within a month he had the phone numbers of almost every girl in my Literature class, he had buddied up with the bouncers of all the best nightclubs, ensuring free entry any night of the week and he had to start carrying his phone charger around with him because his battery lasted about an hour with the amount of texts and phone calls he received. Everyone loved Damon Salvatore and yet, he never gave up on me – no matter how rude I was, no matter how many times I said no to drinks or ignored his calls and texts, he was never hindered by it. When I asked him about it, a little way down the line, he told me it was because I wasn't like the other girls. I didn't instantly want to climb into bed with him; I intrigued him. I suppose it was as good a reason as any.

Eventually I grew to love him and the friendship we had. The Damon everyone knew – funny, playful and flirtatious – was the truth, there was no false persona however there was another side to him, one that not a lot of people got to see. Because Damon was also kind, he was sweet; he knew exactly the right thing to say and how to say it. As our relationship progressed, he became my crutch and I began to turn to him for everything. He never spoke about Tyler – not when he was sober, at least – but he did give me guidance on everything else. And he came to me for advice as well. I gave him dating advice – "stay away from Vicky because she's a slut and you'll probably catch something but give Rose a chance, she's a lovely girl" – though he didn't always follow it. As much as girls tried to change him, tried to be _the one _who would make the all-mighty Damon Salvatore settle down, it was never to be. When girls came to me, in fits of tears, wondering where they'd went wrong, I didn't know what to tell them except Damon wasn't the "relationship type" and they needed to move on. Looking back, I probably should have taken my own advice.

Tyler had no idea how close Damon and I ever really became; I didn't ever lie to him but if I was going out, I'd usually avoid telling him who with or imply I was going in a large group. Then I would take loads of pictures with college friends – and the occasional random stranger - I'd bump into in bars and clubs and post them on Facebook to warrant off any suspicion. What I told Tyler wasn't exactly a lie – I did go out a lot, and I usually did meet up with other people – but first, _always _first, Damon and I would meet up for drinks in this unknown bar that he seemed to love despite the fact that it seemed to be a refuge for elderly men who were drowning their sorrows in alcohol and the occasional group of middle-aged women who always demanded the bartender set up the karaoke machine so they could give the bar their best rendition of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". Damon and I knew we were drunk enough if their voices ever sounded remotely bearable. If not, we'd do another shot of Tequila. It's not as if we went to the bar alone because I disliked Damon's friends or anything – I wasn't socially awkward and it didn't take long before Damon's friends became my friends as well – it was Damon who always declined their constant offers for pre-drinks. He usually made up some excuse about having no money or working but he told me he preferred it just us two, that it was more intimate and relaxed. And I enjoyed his company so much, I never once questioned him.

Still, there was one problem with these cosy gatherings – and it wasn't the constant lying to Tyler. When Damon got drunk enough, things often got a little too close for comfort. He'd ask me about Tyler, he'd ask me why we were still together and sometimes, he'd beg me to break up with him. Being drunk myself, sometimes I'd answer his questions: "I haven't broken up with Tyler yet because he's going through something rough and I can't do that to him." Eventually, I told him the real trouble Tyler was going through in hope he would ease up with the flirting. Yet, not even that prevented it. Sometimes, at the end of the night, he'd take things a step far and try and kiss me. In hindsight, I should have got angry at him the first time he did it, to let him know it wasn't ok but I didn't, and eventually he started trying it almost every time we were alone at the end of the night… sometimes even in the nightclub whilst we were dancing. Each time I shoved him away, turn my head or laugh it off.

The first time he done it, he phoned me in the morning absolutely humiliated. I assured him it was okay and nobody would ever have to know about it as long as it didn't happen again. He assured me it wouldn't. He lied. Eventually, he stopped apologising for it. He became very open about the fact that he wanted to kiss me, to sleep with me. He even told me he liked me and wanted me to finish things with Tyler. Of course, each time he said anything like that we'd both been drunk so I'd shrugged it off. Still, to say such a thing to a girl with a boyfriend should result in a slap and a termination of the friendship or at the very least, the removal of these far too personal gatherings however, at this point in time, I never dreamed of such a thing. Because the thought of Damon not being around created a genuine feeling of pain in the pit of my stomach, one of anguish and terror to think that such a day could ever come. In just a few short months, we'd grew closer than I'd ever felt with any person, ever; I was in far too deep with him to ever think about telling him to get out of my life. And so, I smiled and I laughed and I turned my head whenever he tried to kiss me because, the way I felt about him then, he could probably have killed a person and I'd still want to spend every waking minute with him.

**Thoughts? Apologies for some poor expression and clichéd lines. **

**The majority of this story has already been written however, I am still very much open to new ideas about what could happen in this story! Especially let me know if there's any characters you would like to see introduced into the story! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**If you are like me and enjoy listening to music that fit into the tone of whatever you're reading, I suggest Lady Antebellum – I Run To You/Levi Kreis – "I Should Go"** **which inspired fragments of this chapter. Enjoy.**

Despite my growing intolerance for all things Tyler Lockwood and my secret but ever increasing affection for my best friend, it still hurt like a bitch when I found my boyfriend in bed with another girl. And – not that it would have made it better – it was not even an" appropriate" girl, it was Vicki Donovan of all people! We'd only been at college a few months but she'd already made her reputation as the town bike perfectly clear. Not to mention they were at it in Tyler's bed in his parent's house; I think that's what hurt the most. To cheat on your long-term girl in the place you first had sex, Tyler had sunk so low he was almost at the Earth's core. Not even just that, that bed was the place I'd held him the day he discovered his life was a lie. He was my first everything: my first proper boyfriend, the first boy I'd ever slept with and now, I suppose, my first heartache. People say teenagers should not be trusted to make rational decisions because we allow our emotions to get the better of us. That's why we can't buy a lottery ticket until we're 16 or join the army and drink alcohol until we're 18. That's why no-one would ever dream of giving a person under the age of 21 a licence to own a gun. We're considered too immature to handle such huge pressure, which seems ridiculous when you consider that the people claiming this believe that we're intelligent enough to sit exams at 15 and mature enough to make huge life-changing decisions about our future at 17… all the while still having to ask to use the bathroom in classrooms.

Clearly, there are some fucked up things about the way the government makes rules and regulations but at times like this, in moments of clarity, I understood the reasoning behind it. Because if I could, if I was _allowed _I would have joined the army, got a gun, shot the stupid slut in my boyfriend's bed and then castrated Tyler with my bare hands because death would have been too kind. I felt humiliated, distraught and angry… so, so angry. But I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was run home, lock myself in my room and cry.

I think if it weren't for Damon, I wouldn't have ever stopped.

When he heard what had happened he was round at my door in a flash. My new roommate, Lexi, reluctantly let him in – even back then, she hated him. He stood outside my door for half an hour despite my screams for him to go away and hammered on my door, barricaded with a chest of drawers, until I opened up. Even then I only did so to stop Lexi from calling the police. As soon as I opened the door and he engulfed me in his arms, I knew I'd made the right decision. He did everything _right_. He'd brought with him reinforcements – toilet paper (he didn't have any proper tissues), a bottle of Vodka (the cheap stuff because he was skint) and _Tesco's _own brand of Vanilla ice cream (which was missing the vanilla and cream part) but the best thing he brought with him was just himself. He hugged me and soothed me and whipped away my tears until I finally stopped crying. He whispered things in my ear, things that my girlfriends would tell me but somehow they sounded better coming from his lips. He told me Tyler was an idiot and I was beautiful and I deserved better; all the usual stuff but he sounded so genuine and sincere, I started crying because he was being so kind to me, much kinder than I deserved. He sat with me into the early hours of the morning and even watched my favourite rom-com "When Harry Met Sally" and didn't complain once. Then when I was tired; exhausted from all the crying and emotionally drained from the full day, he wrapped me up in a blanket, kissed my forehead and slept on the bed beside me. And despite everything awful that had happened on that day, Sunday March 2, it still sticks in my head as one of the best days of my life.

The next day Damon walked up to Tyler in college and punched him square on the nose. Then he called him a pathetic weasel and told him if he ever went near me again, he'd kill him. He sounded so menacing, I even believed him. Tyler didn't respond to Damon's act of violence nor did he report him, in fact, all he did was send me a text telling me how sorry he was for everything he'd done. I deleted it without so much as a second thought then I went to the cinema with Damon.

He wasn't my boyfriend nor was he ever aware of my feelings towards him but Damon and I started to spend more and more time together. I found myself wanting to spend every waking moment with him. We were together every single day, we even studied together. He even gave up his Saturday nights to sit in and watch films with me because he knew I wasn't ready to go out to nightclubs yet and get hit on by random men. But when I was eventually ready, he came with me. He acted as my wingman; protecting me from the sleezy pervs and introducing me to the good looking ones. But no matter how many boys I pulled on a night out, how long I spoke to them or even if we shared a taxi home, my nights out always ended with me turning up at Damon's house at whatever time of night and slipping into bed next to him because even just being near him made me happier than anything else in the world.

**Tvd-tvd-tvd**

Our relationship was perfect… for a while. Damon and I had our own set-up that worked for the both of us, it was comfortable and it was easy. But it wasn't real. And when Damon announced to me one morning when I woke up next to him that he was going on a date that night and maybe it wouldn't be a good idea if I went round to his later that night, that's when it hit home. I didn't cry in front of him, how could I? He was so selfless, he'd been there for me through everything and he'd helped me get well and truly over my idiotic ex-boyfriend. Heck, I'd kissed people in front of him, how could I tell him I didn't want him going on a date? So I smiled and nodded and got out of there as fast as I could because I didn't want him to see how much it hurt me. That night, the beginning at least, was one of the most awful nights I've ever experienced. I tried to take my mind off it by listening to music, watching films; I even tried my hand at baking. But everything I did reminded me of him and eventually I decided to give up and wallow in my own self-pity and contemplate how stupid I'd been for keeping my feelings a secret from him, especially now that I was well and truly friend zoned. So I sat back with my headphones in, listening to Levi Kreis – "I should go" on repeat because it reminded me of him and I like to torture myself. The music was so loud, I only heard the knock of the door in the seconds between the song ending and restarting again. I looked at the clock. It was 1am and the only person I imagined it could be was a drunk Lexi who'd lost her key.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

"What are you doing here, Damon?" I was whispering because it was the middle of the night but my brain was screaming. "I thought you had a date."

"I did." He didn't seem drunk but his crypticness and refusal to look me in the eye made me think otherwise.

"How was it? Come in and tell me about it."

He shook his head and remained at the door. "It was fine. The food was fine. The girl was fine. Everything was _fine_." As his sentence progressed, each time he said _fine _it became more and more stressed; he certainly did not sound fine at all.

"Then why do you seem upset?"

"Because that's the problem!" He exclaimed. "That's all it was. _Fine. _There I was with a beautiful looking girl at my favourite restaurant eating a dish of Carbonara and everything was just mediocre. Everything is _always _just mediocre."

I wasn't following. What was he talking about? "Damon I think you've had too much to drink, come inside, let me get you some water."

"That's the thing, 'Lena. I drove here. I haven't had one drop of alcohol tonight. It's _you_!"

"Me?" What could I have possibly done? "What did I do?"

"You ruined everything."

I was puzzled to say the least, how could I ruin anything, heck I didn't even know who he was on a date with that night. "Damon, I'm sorry for whatever you think I've done but I promise, I'll—"

"It's not what you've intentionally done." He interrupted. "It's what you do without even thinking. You consume me; you make it so I can't think of anyone else except you. You drive me crazy and you don't even know you're doing it. And I don't know how to make you stop. That's the worst thing. How can I make you stop?"

I didn't know how to respond. What did this mean? What he was telling me was everything I wanted to hear but he was saying it the _wrong _way. The way he said those things were like they were a curse rather than what he wanted. So he thought about me a lot, was that a good thing for him? Or did he hate me for it? Not knowing how to answer his question that I prayed was rhetorical, I just continued to stare at him, willing him to look me in the eyes. The moment he did, the emotion in them paralysed me.

"Please stop me if this isn't what you want." His voice was a whisper as he leaned closer, his eyes smouldering, his lips parted. My own eyes stayed open till the last half second, wanting to savour every moment of him. His breath was cool, the smell of peppermint from the after mints in the restaurant still lingered. And then his mouth was on mine, the stubble on his face tickling my cheek. His lips were soft but they knew their purpose. Hard but gentle, fiery but cool, a split second but an eternity all at the same time. If I had to imagine a heaven it would be here, in this single moment, forever. I had never experienced anything so wonderful in my entire life yet the air lingered bittersweet because everything after it would be disappointing. When we eventually broke apart, I kept my eyes closed for an extra few seconds; I didn't want the illusion to shatter.  
"Thank you." I whispered to his awaiting eyes then I shut the front door in his face.

**-tvd-tvd-tvd**

I walked into college the next day with an equal amount of dread and anticipation. I was worried; would things be different or the same? And if different, a good different? Would he ignore me, or pretend like nothing happened? Did he regret kissing me, was he angry I slammed the door in his face or disappointed? Maybe I was a bad kisser. Was I a bad kisser? How could I tell? Surely, in the time we were together, Tyler would have mentioned that my kissing skills lacked something to be desired. Wouldn't he? This irrational thought started to plague my every action that morning getting ready. Should I wear lipstick or would that just draw attention to my lips and remind Damon how bad a kisser I was? No lipstick today then.

My heart was doing a sprint by the time I reached the classroom door. Taking a deep breath, I walked inside. He was already there. Damn it! I'd purposely come early to avoid the awkward walk. Apparently so had he. My breathing became shallow as I walked on the balls of my feet, my hands squeezed into tight fists and approached our desk.

"Why are you walking like you've got a stick up your bum?" Okay. Not what I was expecting. I was taken aback by the nonchalance of his question; he was acting like nothing had happened!

Assumingly, my face was a picture of confusion and embarrassment because he was quick to reassure me. "Relax, 'Lena. I wasn't that bad was I?"

"Bad at what?" Stupid question. I winced at my foot-in-mouth disorder that had somehow overcome me in the past five minutes.

"Please tell me you're not one of those girls who gets so embarrassed about kissing that she oppresses the full thing, are you?" He was looking at me with those eyes, the eyes he reserved only for me. The kind and gentle and caring eyes but currently, they had a touch of sadness in them. Was that because he was worried I didn't want him to kiss me?

"No." I answered. "I'm not."

"Good." He smiled, all the sadness gone. "Because if it's okay with you, some day in the near future I'd like to take you on a date and maybe even kiss you again."

**So, explaining what happened with this chapter. The beginning and the end were written – Tyler cheating on her and her ending up kissing Damon was always part of the plan – however, the middle has been composed and made up in the space of an hour. I apologise for the lack of dialogue until the end; this chapter, I felt, didn't work unless it was mostly Elena's inner monologue as you needed to be able to truly understand what was going on with Elena's feelings with Damon. Now I know what you're thinking. Elena and Damon are together, that's it? Not quite. Yes they will be together however this story is going to take a slightly darker path in a few chapters time. I hope you'll bear with me for it. Please review! – Jess.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Apologies for the 6-week wait. I've had a busy few weeks – I was away for a fortnight at the end of June on holiday and I am also a volunteer at the Commonwealth Games. Between work and the Games, I have had virtually no time to myself until now. This chapter sucks, there is no two ways about it but it has a small purpose – which will be explained in the next chapter. **

Damon Salvatore doesn't do relationships. That's what he told me when I first met him, that's what he told every girl he ever went on a date with; heck, that's what _I _told every girl he ever went on a date with!

So why did I think I was an exception? Because we were friends first, because he treated me different than every other girl, because he made me feel like I was special? He made every girl feel special, that was part of his charm. He made them feel like they were the only girl in the world who mattered – and then he broke their hearts. I'm just another one of those girls. I thought I could change him, I thought he really liked me; I thought I was different… but as it turned out, I was just another stupid girl in a long line. I wasn't the first and I certainly won't be the last.

And yet, I was still left three months later completely perplexed at what exactly I had done wrong. For that short period of time, I had truly believed Damon and I were in a relationship. We went on dates, I had met his family and I stayed at his almost every night. When I gave myself to him completely – in mind, soul _and _body – I gave him a piece of myself, a piece I don't think I'll ever get back. I was infatuated with the glory of Damon Salvatore – his charm, his smile and his ability to brighten my day just by being himself. Every day I'd wake up next to him and he'd kiss me and tell me how beautiful I was, every night I'd go to sleep with a smile on my face because I was finally home. Damon was everything I could have ever hoped for. My best friend and the most amazing boyfriend – shame telling him that was the biggest mistake of my life.

His face dropped when I said the word "boyfriend". Instantly, I knew I'd made a mistake. It wasn't even intentional, I'd just been telling him about what my Nana had said when she'd asked about 'my boyfriend Damon'.

"I'm not your boyfriend, 'Lena." For an English Literature student, those five words should not have been as difficult to comprehend.

"You're not?" I couldn't help the nervous giggle that escaped me.

"No." His tone was sombre, like a former alcoholic who was discussing his past.

"Then what are you?" Even then, I cringed at the words. I didn't like the idea of discussing anything serious more than he liked to define it but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I'm your friend."

At the word _friend _my mouth finally caught up with my brain. "My _friend_? Do you sleep with all of your friends?"

There was a slight hesitation. I could see his eyes calculating his next words, trying to find the right thing to say as to not upset me. "You're a special friend."

Despite his desperation to keep the situation calm, I still ended up seething. Could you blame me? "And you're pathetic." My nostrils flared like a bull going into battle.

"'Lena," His tone was calm but there was something new about him. His eyes were ablaze and there was a cold determination in them. "I never said we were more than friends."

"No but you did take me on dates, introduce me to your family and invite me to sleep over every night. And you're telling me that's _not _a relationship? Oh, sorry _mate _that was my mistake."

"I'm sorry for the confusion." How could he still remain so calm and collected right now? I didn't understand him right now – we _acted _like a couple so what exactly was the problem with just calling us a couple? 'Girlfriend' and 'Boyfriend' – they were just words; I wasn't exactly expecting a proposal in front of the Eiffel Tower or to open a joint bank account but it would be nice to introduce Damon to my Grandmother as something more than 'Nana, this is Damon, we're friends who sleep together.'

I could see from Damon's face that he didn't know what else to say, and I'd embarrassed myself enough for one day. Grabbing my overnight bag and stuffing whatever I could see that was mines inside it, all I had left was a piece of my dignity. "No, I'm the one who's sorry, Damon. For wasting all my time pinning after a guy who's so fucked up that the thought of commitment scares him so much that he's willing to throw away something this good. I don't want your sorrow you completely jackass, but you have my pity."

-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd

Of course that wasn't the end of our story; I still had to see Damon every day at college, I still had to watch his flirt, unfazed by the fact that I was standing near him or within hearing distance. Sometimes I wondered if he did it deliberately but Damon wasn't that deep. For the next few days after the 'boyfriend' incident, he tried to apologise but I refused to hear it. Truthfully, I was humiliated – how could I have been so stupid as to believe that Damon wanted to commit to me? And my girlfriends weren't much help either; honestly, with the exception of Lexi who had a boyfriend and hated Damon with a passion, not one girl showed any loyalty towards me. "He wasn't your boyfriend, 'Lena" one of them said whilst I caught another openly flirting with Damon on Facebook. Cringe. So much for girl power then.

Still, I missed Damon with everything inside me. In just a couple of months, he had become such a huge part of my life and the relief that came over me when the first year of college came to a close was indescribable. No longer did I had any classes and the only thing left between me and a carefree, Damon-free summer was four exams spread out over the month of May.

**Don't hate me because this chapter is so short and pointless. It's a filler chapter – next chapter will be up within the hour!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Now time for an official explanation for the garbage that was my previous chapter. When I first began to write this, as previously explained, it was not a DE fanfic, it was a collection of scribbles in a notepad in hope that one day inspiration would come and I'd write this amazing, best-selling story out of it. Unfortunately, my story is not unique or well-written enough to ever become more of a fanfic but it is a starting point and I feel if I can write a full story from start to finish I will have accomplished something of worth. This chapter is one of the first things I ever wrote and since I wrote it, I have edited and edited and re-written it until I was semi-satisfied. However, it did not exactly fit into my story and I needed the chapter before in order to build up to that. Initially, this chapter was planned to take place much later but my imagination has other ideas and the story takes other twists and turns where this chapter simply wouldn't fit and as I wanted to include it, here it is.**

**PS: if you want a song to listen to this chapter try "Lady Antebellum – Need You Now".**

**Tvd-tvd-tvd**

"It better be life or death" was how I answered my phone after it sprung to life playing that stupid Marimba ringtone. It was 2.37 according to my alarm clock and the pitch black darkness outside as well as the fact my head was thumping with exhaustion confirmed that it was not the side of 12 o'clock I hoped I'd be seeing when I went to bed earlier that night.

It had been a long week. Between studying for exams and late night shifts at work, I was barely managing to stay afloat. All I wanted to do – and all I'd been dreaming of doing – for the past few weeks was to crawl into bed and now wake up until Christmas. Whoever was waking me up at this time better have a good reason – and right now, not even "Hi, I'm Ryan Gosling" would suffice.

"'Lena?" And certainly, "Hi, it's your arshole of an ex-not-really-your-boyfriend, Damon" wouldn't either.

"Damon? What do you want?" We hadn't spoken properly in months, not since that day he told me he didn't want me to be his girlfriend – not unless you count the times he tried to apologise to me after it. I don't.

"'Lena, I'm sooooooo sorry." Drunk. Great. He was pissed and phoning me, slurring his words. In the background, I could hear the sound of people singing Whitney Houston on karaoke sounding like a team of X-Factor rejects.

"Damon, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's Chico time!"

"Goodbye, Damon." I hissed angrily, taking out all my frustration on the END CALL button. He thought, after everything he'd put me through, that he had the right to phone me up at this hour and for what, a chat? No chance.

My head had barely hit the pillow when my phone sprung back to life. I was going to track down and brutally murder whoever made that stupid ringtone… right after I killed Damon.

"Go home, Damon." I growled.

"'Lena, please." He was mumbling his words but even through his drunken slumber, I could sense the fear in his tone. "Please, please help me."

I sighed – extra heavy to show him how pissed off I was (not that he'd have noticed in the state he was in) – but I was already out of my bed, grabbing my car keys and a jacket. I loved him; that was the only real reason I was doing this and no matter how much he'd hurt me, I'd always keep loving him and I would do anything for him, whenever he asked and whatever it was.

"I'll be there in half an hour." I didn't even need to ask him where he was.

**-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd**

He still managed to look beautiful even in his intoxicated state; his favourite leather jacket reeking of beer, slouched over the bar drinking an old man's drink.

"He's been like that for a while." The waitress with the push-up bra informed me. When I'd arrived she'd been pushing a glass of water in his direction and seemed almost disheartened that I'd actually shown up. I think she was hoping if I didn't appear, she could have taken him home for the night. Not happening.

Damon was barely managing to cling to the edge of consciousness by the skin of his teeth when I got to him. I half-carried him to the car, surprisingly not receiving as many weird looks as I'd anticipated. We looked a picture – him sweaty and about to collapse and me struggling along, still wearing my pyjama shorts. Still I suppose, in a dive bar at 3 in the morning on a Tuesday night, we weren't the strange ones. Damon passed out before I'd even had time to put my seatbelt on, giving me the car ride back to his flat to torture myself with his scent and push back tears to the thought that I could no longer call him mines.

**-tvd-tvd-tvd-tvd**

He was not fit enough to be carried up a flight of stairs to his apartment, I decided so almost as soon as I arrived at his building I changed direction and headed to my flat. It was a joint effort to reach the lift – and by joint effort, it was made up of me pushing and pulling and him mumbling "I'm about to be sick". Finally, however, we made it to the front door.

Next was the problem of where he was going to sleep. He was sleeping on my bed, I had already decided that the moment I'd walked through the door but my brain just needed to justify it. If I left him on the couch one of two things could happen:

Lexi could wake up early and find this strange man asleep on the couch, tired and struck with fear she would either scream or hit him with a frying pan.

Both of those outcomes would wake me up

He could roll onto his back and choke on his own sick.

I pulled him through into my room and allowed him to collapse onto my bed. Removing his jacket, I allowed myself to linger on the misty scent that smelled like home before slinging it over a nearby chair. I placed a glass of water on the bedside table for the morning before settling into the space beside him. I was just drifting off the sleep when I heard a weak mumbling.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please don't leave me."

Out of all the words I expected to hear from him, those were not any of them. Leave him? I had picked him up in the middle of the night from some stupid bar, did he not realise yet that if he asked me to jump off a bridge I'd ask him where to aim for?

"I'm right here." I eventually answered.

When he didn't respond straight away, I'd assumed he'd fell back asleep. When I heard him shuffling about, I thought he was just getting comfy. When I felt his hands tug on my pyjama shorts, I thought he'd made a mistake.

"Damon—"

"Please," he begged, the desperation evident in his voice. "I just need you, to be here, with me."

How could I deny him? He was offering me everything I'd ever wanted.

The next morning I awoke to a cold pillow and a note scribbled on the back of a receipt. _"Doesn't change anything. Sorry." _

**Opinions? The issue with the story I now have is I have all the major events plotted out but I'll need to do so many filler (and crappy) chapters to reach them. Review please with ideas and comments. **


	6. Chapter 6

**This story, though slightly exaggerated, is about the obsession teenage boys have with being 'young, free and single' and Damon is no different. I never wrote this story with the intent that anyone would resent the male lead however, I know for many of you that's what happened. To sympathise with Damon, try to remember he's only 19 in this story and he's not the hero that we see on our screens every week; he hasn't lived for 150+ years, he doesn't understand the world. All he understands is that he is young, he is attractive and he wants to have a good time.**

**If you like anguish, you'll like this chapter. If you like soppiness and flowers and fairy-tales, this story – at least not this chapter or the next few – isn't for you. Like the majority of stories, our couple will have their moment eventually but whether it will last or not, I've not decided yet. It centres on the premise that not everything works out the way you'd like it to. (I mean, I'd like to marry Daniel Gillies on the beach in Hawaii but seeing as he's happily married with a gorgeous new baby, I can accept that the chance of that happening is slim-to-none).**

**Songs to listen to for this chapter: Taylor Swift – Red, Rascal Flatts – What Hurts The Most.**

Tuesday. 9.26 p.m. Target has been spotted in vehicle with unidentified female.

And I have gone completely bonkers.

Look at me. What would my younger self make of me if she knew that at eighteen-almost-nineteen years of age, I was crouched behind an elderly lady's bin outside my not-even-my-ex's parents' house waiting for him to come home from a date I only found out is happening because I guessed his Facebook password? (damonsalvatore123, _really _Damon, _really_?)

And yet, I can't seem to stop myself. Ever since Damon abandoned me with nothing more than a crappy note scribbled on the back of a receipt (he'd bought wine and condoms on the 25th of April, which was approximately two weeks after he'd told me we weren't an item – real mature bucko) I'd become completely obsessed with every activity going on in his life. Knowing his Facebook password just made things worse – every little minor detail that happened in Damon's life, I knew about it. His shifts at work had been cut, meaning he couldn't afford his rent for the summer and in the meantime he'd moved back home; he told his friend Alaric that he was so skint he'd had to make decisions between food and alcohol, the latter winning most of the time. In a moment of desperation, I'd typed my name into the search bar of his messages to see if he'd ever spoken about me to anyone. The only thing I found post our not-even-a-real-relationship break-up was to some random girl he'd met on a night out:

_When was your last relationship? __ xx_

_Never._

_Never? :O :O x_

_Nope. I had this thing with a girl, Elena quite recently but we wanted separate things. I don't want to talk about this. X_

_Ok, I understand. Here for you if you ever need anything. __ 3 x x x_

_Thanks. _

And that was that. All I was to him was a 'thing', something he didn't want to discuss. And yet, even that didn't stop my infatuation with him. I went from being obsessed with him to disgusted with myself for being so obsessed and then back again. Lexi had completely given up with me; she said I was a crazy fool but believed the only thing that would help me move on would be time. Of course, she had no idea how far my fixation had become – she thought I was at the movies with my mum tonight.

-tvd-tvd-tvd

I don't know what I hope to accomplish out of this. No matter the outcome, I'll end up being hurt. If he gives her a goodnight kiss, I'll be completely devastated but if he sends her on her way and goes into the house alone, it'll fill me with hope and that is perhaps far more dangerous for my emotions than any chaste kiss would ever be.

-tvd-tvd-tvd

Finally, after what feels like three years, the taxi door swings open. Damon steps out, his usual picture of perfection. Alone. I sigh in relief, but it's not over yet. Before closing the door, he ducks his head back inside. It's dark but I've been outside for the past hour, my eyes have adjusted. He says something and I see her face light up in response, she leans in to kiss him but he changes it to cheek. Still, she doesn't seem disappointed. The taxi door is slammed shut and it drives away, followed by Damon's lingering gaze. My head is swarming with ideas. What does this mean? He didn't want to kiss her, or he didn't think he could control himself if he did? He stared after the taxi – was he just making sure she was safe, was he stuck in a daydream or was he lingering there, engulfing the remainder of her scent? I needed to get out of there. I needed to think. And I can't do that behind a bin with a cat arching her back at me, threatening to out me and the smell of out-of-date chicken making me gag. Slowly, I retreat backwards keeping one eye on Damon at all times. He strolls to the door slowly; a slight stagger in every step making me think he'd had more than one beer at dinner. Good! Maybe the alcohol would dull his senses.

It didn't. I step on the gravel in the neighbour's garden and the deep crunching noise in the silence of the night causes his head to instantly whip around. I am a deer caught in the headlights.

"Elena?" He is squinting in my direction but we have yet to make eye contact. I think fast.

"No," I call, trying to make my voice sound as high-pitched as possible. "It's Melanie, your neighbour." His neighbour was 62 years old with short, blonde hair and a limp.

"Elena, I know it's you. I bought you that jacket." Damn it! Curse you black coat for being so warm and matching with everything. I sigh, my face heating up as I make my way towards him. The only thing I have now is fifteen seconds to come up with an amazing excuse for why I'm camped out in his neighbour's garden.

Of course, me being me, I try to be smooth and slide between the two bins that lead to his garden and I trip over the stupid cat – who hisses at me like it's _my _fault – and fall flat on my face into the soil. Mother Nature is certainly not my friend today. With my face in the dirt, I made an executive decision that I'm never going to move again. Here, in my little mud garden, no one could see my beetroot face or the tears that were threatening my eyes. They could not see my failed attempt to spy on Damon or the pathetic loser I had become. Yes, I liked this patch of soil very, very much. Unfortunately, Damon did not.

"Elena, are you okay?" I could feel his footsteps vibrate on the ground as he ran over to me.

I pushed myself up onto my knees. "I'm terrific, can't you tell?"

He crouched down and looked at me, giving me a once over, before bursting out laughing. "You're an idiot." He rolled his eyes and wiped dirt from my cheeks and mouth.

"Understatement of the century."

"Why are you here, 'Lena?" he whispered, pushing back the hair that had glued to my face with a brown and sticky paste.

I sighed, the time for secrecy was gone. The only way I would ever get him back, or even get him to remotely understand that I wasn't simply a crazy person, was to lay all of my cards on the table and pray that he doesn't hate me. "Because I love you, because I can't stand to see you with anyone else but me, because even though I know it won't change anything, I just needed to see you, because-" I broke off into a choked cry. Why was it always me who ended up getting hurt? Was this some fucked up karma from a past life or am I just gluten for punishment?

"Lena." He breathed and in that one word, I saw everything I'd ever wanted. Before it was crushed by the next. "I'm sorry, it still doesn't change anything. I don't want what you want, and I know that to you it doesn't make sense and I'm being complicated and difficult but I can't be what you want me to be. I'm sorry."

"I know." I choked out my last shred of dignity. "I'm sorry for tonight."

"Don't apologise." He smiled kindly. God why couldn't he just be a dick? Why couldn't he call me a freak and a psychopath? Why couldn't he tell me to piss off because he didn't want me, and tell me to move the fuck on? At least then I could hate him. But sitting like that, with my head on his shoulder, crying into his second favourite shirt (after the blue polo his grandmother had brought him back from America) whilst he wrapped his arm round me and whispered that everything was going to get better, my heart only swelled with one emotion. Love. Land of sorrow; Ocean of tears;Valley of death; End of life. Who the hell ever decided that love was a good thing? Love was the devil in disguise, a reminder from Satan that, whilst God was omnipotent, he too could impose his will onto the universe.

"I'm going to go," I finally uttered, abruptly standing up, not allowing myself to relish in my - most likely - last time in his arms. "I've caused myself enough humiliation for one night, I'm sorry, again."

He just looked at me with those huge, sad eyes. "No, I'm the one who's sorry, 'Lena. Goodnight."

And then I broke off into a fast walk which turned into a light jog which turned into a sprint to get home as fast as I could before I gave up completely and collapsed, an emotional wreck, onto the cold pavement.

**Hold on tight, this is going to be a bumpy ride.**


End file.
